"Thanks for visiting Bakubro!"
Bakugou wished those were the last words he heard in this God forsaken hospital, but fuck if he ever was that lucky.
He was currently standing in front of a door he had walked away from numerous times before, contemplating just walking away from it again. The man wouldn't know, hell he wouldn't care, and Bakugou would avoid whatever shit would come from seeing him again.
Clenching his fists, he chewed on his bottom lip hard. He could walk away. He had always walked away. This didn't have to be any different from all the other times.
So what if an ugly feeling strangely similar to guilt clawed its way up his throat every time he let himself forget. So what if he felt his hands shaking every time the image of the man being carded of to the hospital, bloody and broken, flashed through his mind after a particular vivid nightmare. So what.
Bakugou owed him fuck all.
Th uniform freak had brought this on himself and Bakugou shouldn't be wasting his precious time contemplating whether he should see a dying man or not.
And yet.
Stuffing his fists deep in his pockets, Bakugou growled. Fuck this shit.
Spinning on his heels, he turned away and briskly made his way towards the entrance door.
'I think you should go see him bro.' Bakugou paused. 'I mean, if it's bothering you this much, maybe you should just go talk to him? Wouldn't hurt right?"
Fucking shitty hair and his meddling in shit that didn't concern him.
Kicking harshly at the floor, Bakugou glared furiously at his last chance of escaping. The hospital entrance was right there, he only had to fucking walk out of it.
Kirishima's toothy grin flashed in front of his eyes.
He paused. Why me?' he thought bitterly.
Slamming his head against the nearest wall much to the astonishment and concern of the nursing staff around him, Bakugou just let his head rest there for a while. The cool surface soothing some of his frayed nerves. "Fuck."
He couldn't let shitty hair down. Not when the idiot had gone out of his fucking way to stick by his sorry ass. If he went back tomorrow to see the idiot just to tell him he'd forgotten to see the uniform freak, well Bakugou didn't want to see that drowned puppy look on the redhead's face anytime soon.
"Fine," he grumbled, gathering his strength to fully push himself back on his feet. "Have it your way."
Fucking shitty hair.
The idiot was a sorcerer. Katsuki would bet his damn life on it. Performing miracles and shit.
Standing once again in front of the door, Bakugou absentmindedly wondered how many times he had done this before. Probably in the double digests by now.
He scowled. Fuck if he couldn't just let this obsession go.
Gritting his teeth, the hot-tempered U.A student steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation. Lifting his hand in what almost looked like hesitation, but wasn't, for Bakugou Katsuki didn't hesitate for shit, he let his knuckles gently rap against the door.
Nothing.
If Pikachu was here, he would have laughed at him. "You call that a knock Blasty?" he would say.
"Hell Katsuki, no one's gonna hear that lame ass sound. Try with a little more oomph yeah!"
Bakugou would have exploded him, but that didn't mean Dunce face was wrong. It was in fact a week-ass knock. But maybe that was the fucking point! If the uniform freak didn't hear him, it wouldn't really be his fault that they didn't talk right?
'Wow,' he thought, kinda stunned. 'Fucking hell Katsuki. You a fucking coward now?'
Scowling deeper at his own inner voice, Bakugou almost let his anger take over, having half a mind to just knock the door of its hinge with a big enough explosion to rock the entire hospital.
But he didn't. Choosing instead to keep his fist gently resting against the door his body singing with tension.
'Maybe he was sleeping. The man had had his entire stomach blown to bits after all.' Bakugou wouldn't really fault him for sleeping like an old man.
'Oh well,' he thought, shrugging in what he later would deny was relief. 'I fucking tried.'
But before he could walk right out of that hospital and come up with an excuse not to visit shitty hair tomorrow, a familiar patronizing voice floated over to him traveling through the door.
"Come on in."
Bakugou froze in mid step.
Fuck.
There was no way out of this now and hell would freeze over before Bakugou ever turned tail and ran. He wasn't a damn coward! He would face this head on.
Pressing the palm of his hand firmly against the cold metal, he slammed the door open with a forceful shove. A lesser man would have winced at the clashing noise from the door hitting the wall, but Bakugou only scowled. Fuck uniform freak. He could shove his condescending tone where the sun didn't shine.
His familiar go to expression didn't last very long however. Not after he got a glimpse of the hospital bed.
The sight that met the young hero was anything but pleasant. It made the blonde's skin crawl.
Best Jeanist looked like a shell of a man where he lay. Swatted in bleak hospital colors, his famous hair looking stringy and dirty and his skin gaunt and discolored.
The news had claimed Tsunagu Hakamata had suffered a setback in his recovery and that some kind of deadly infection has settled into his system, but this.
Bakugou swallowed thickly.
The former number four hero looked like shit.
The twisted voice that had been nagging and whispering bitter truths in Bakugou's ear ever since the kamino incident suddenly flared back up again with vengeance.
'Do you see him?' it said, sounding suspiciously like a mix of the hag and Deku. 'It's your fault that he's like this.'
Bakugou tensed. Eyebrows drawing close together, face paling.'Thought you stopped with All Might did you?' it whispered. 'Looks like you took another hero down with him too. Perfect little villain.'
His insides coiled. He felt sick.
'The number four hero. Look at him. You did that.'
'No,' Bakugou thought, stumbling back slightly, vision swimming. He shook his head roughly as if to expel the permanent voice that had found its residence inside his head.
'This wasn't his fault damn it. All Might wasn't his fault either. He had told him that. All Might had held him and told him that it wasn't his fault. So how, how could this, how could this be his fault! '
But, but...
He swallowed thickly. Suddenly, it became too hard to breath. It was as if someone was squeezing his throat shut. Cold clammy fingers circling around his neck, fingers that could run hot in a matter of seconds burning him if he wasn't careful. And he just couldn't fucking breathe.
Wheezing, he let his fingers claw around for something anything.
Finding the door-frame, he clung to it with all his might and tried to not let himself be swept away by everything.
It wasn't his fault.
Bakugou could vaguely hear someone calling his name, but he couldn't. He didn't.
It wasn't his fault.
"Bakugou!"
It wasn't.
"Bakugou!"
But why the fuck did it feel like it was?
"Bakugou Katsuki!"
A heavy hand fell on his left shoulder. Another coming to rest on his other.
Bakugou's knees almost buckled under the foreign weight.
Shocked he snapped his head up. Eyes frantic and desperate as they locked gaze with the man who was supposed to be half dead on a hospital bed.
"Best Jeanist?" he said hoarsely.
Katsuki mind vaguely registered a high beeping sound echoing all around him. Rushing feet coming to a halt in front of the door. Whispers, orders, noises.
It didn't matter. All he could focus on was the shaking man currently holding onto his shoulders. "Bakugou," the sickly man whispered, tightening his grip in what he must have thought was a reassuring gesture but came across as vaguely suffocating to Bakugou. "Are you with me."
Best Jeanist eyes were pale under the hospital lights, clouded with poorly hidden pain and agony. His lips were drawn into a thin line, and his body was shivering from head to toe. The former pro hero was swaying ever so slightly from left to right.
And yet.
"Bakugou," he said softly. "I need you to breath for me lad. You're having a panic attack."
And yet.
"It's going to be ok. I just need you to focus on me"
And yet.
Why was he so worried about him?